One Day
by ImperfectSnow
Summary: Within every heartbeat there is a memory, embedded in every scar, a story. Is it alright to know the ending but not the trials of how one got there? Kakashixsakura, kakasaku. Rated T for darker themes - Rating will change to M later on if continued.


**One Day**

**Pairing:**Kakashi X Sakura

**Words:** 7,798

**Summary:** Within every heartbeat there is a memory, embedded in every scar, a story. Is it alright to know the ending but not the trials of how one got there?

**Disclaimer:** I DO NOT own Naruto or any of its characters and make no profit from this fanfic.

A/N: This is rated T for themes of torture, but will increase to M later on This is unbeta-ed so please excuse any grammatical errors. At this point, this will be a 2-shot (Longer A/N at the end)

Cataract-covered, mismatched eyes gaze unseeingly at the fall of shadows on a mottled ceiling, tracing the map of plaster from memory rather than from sight. The warmth of a body laying one foot away washes over frail bones, through paper-thin skin and into an arrhythmic heart – which beats slower and slower as the minutes tick by.

The disordered pulse of an eight decade old heart (beating slower… and slower still) marks the death of an eight decade long rhythm. It falters slightly before fighting to pick up again. _Thrum. Thrum Thrum. Thrum. Pause. Reboot._

A breath catches in an old throat and a chest tightens under the motion. An eight decade old mind shifts to the body lying peacefully beside its master and the master's restless muscle clenches with longing and memories, pumping blood like oil – thick and sluggish.

Acceptance is a beautiful thing for an old soul; it washes away impurities and prepares the mind for what the body already knows. Another forced breath makes its way through wrinkled lips and a pained grimace paints itself onto crepe-paper skin.

Incredulity at the fact that the weathered and battered soul has made it to its eightieth year crashes over the man and an emotion akin to amusement tickles its way into an aged mind. Beyond that amusement, however, is panic – _have I had long enough to love her? Has it been enough time for her to know exactly how much I do?_

And, with resounding clarity, the answer appears.

_Yes. She knows, I told her every day for the past forty seven years – maybe not in words but I told her all the same. _

Weathered mind and blinded eyes see the past; of some four decades ago when that broken body was a man of thirty three and the warmth lying beside him was a spritely nineteen year old kunoichi with emeralds for eyes and fire for spirit.

Xxx

Slightly dulled green eyes opened to take in the sights before them. While her nose had already picked up the scent of death and blood and her ears had already heard the sound of torture, her eyes had yet to see the truth of her circumstances and the inevitability of her death.

On the wall opposite her shackled body was a blood stain in the shape of a butterfly, as if her tormentor had felt particularly artistic and painted the monarch patterns to mock her absence of freedom. Sakura would have scoffed if her throat weren't impossibly tight and her tongue weren't imitating a cotton ball in her mouth. She resorted to a weak eye roll and immediately regretted it as her brain pulsed furiously at the action. She groaned and attempted to slouch forward to rest her body and relieve the pressure on her skull, but soon found that she was completely chained to the wall with absolutely no leeway to even turn her head. She could feel the cold concrete of the wall pressed up against the entirety of her back and limbs as well as her head and realized that she was pinned to the wall with thick, metal, chakra-disabling restraints. There was a restriction on each wrist, upper-arm, ankle, thigh and one thick metal belt around her ribs, successfully bolting her to the wall. The combination of gravity and her own body weight caused the heavy belt to cut into her skin, leaving angry red slices beneath her breasts. Maybe the butterfly painting wasn't so much a mockery of her freedom and more an affirmation of her position.

She was a butterfly pinned spread-eagle to a board, put on display for the pleasure of its master.

The steady _drip drip drip_ alerted her to the wound in her stomach and the sickening way it was relinquishing all her lifeblood to the floor. The blood ran down her legs in tiny rivulets before running off the ends of her toes and dripping into the puddle directly below her.

Sakura wished she could remember anything after she entered the enemy headquarters but her mind was fuzzier than it had ever been and all she knew was that she had infiltrated the base and then… nothing. She tried to sigh but all that exited her lips was a strangled sound and an almost-cough. The drip continued and she wondered how long it would be before she lost consciousness again… how long before she died.

_Just breathe. _

She tried to suck in a full breath but her constrictions stopped her in her tracks until her lungs burned from the temptation of having almost received oxygen. She closed her eyes, losing sight of the monarch butterfly-mockery-affirmation.

_Think of something happy. Something to get the endorphins pumping. Something to take away the pain._

Before her mind could help it, flashes of silver hair and crinkled eyes filled her mental vision and she almost shuddered at the involuntary emotions that washed over her. She loved him as a best friend and mission partner and having ended things on bad terms before this mission was almost more painful than the long, narrow, knife-shaped wound in her stomach. She sucked in another stilted breath and tried again.

_Something happy. Something to make me forget this pain._

In that moment she wasn't entirely sure which pain she was thinking about; the physical wound or the emotional wound which has embedded itself into her rapidly beating heart. Her heart, which was fighting valiantly to keep up with her continuous blood loss. Her heart, which was fighting valiantly to keep up with her bitter guilt.

_Come on Sakura, don't be a fool – don't dwell on things you can't change when you know you're going to die. _

Death – what a morbid thought – was coming at her like a down-slicing katana, faster than she ever imagined was possible. So she squeezed her eyes tighter and forced herself to imagine a field. The training field where she used to spar with Team 7, only this time it was full of white flowers, fuller than it would ever be in reality. Slowly, slowly her mind filled the field even more, replacing the weeds with fluffy white petals and the craters with rippling ponds. Butterflies flitted from flower to flower, allowing the wind to lift and drop them at its will. She lay in that field, eyes closed, running her fingers through her pink-petal hair and letting the sun soak into her skin, smelling the all-encompassing essence of the wild flowers and feeling the crushed earth beneath her legs and back. She wore a red dress, red like blood, only this time the red didn't drip, it stayed stagnant – only moving when the subtle breeze rustled the fabric over her toned skin.

She could feel a contented smile pulling at her mouth as a shadow fell over her horizontal form. She hoped beyond hope that her mind wouldn't be cruel and make that shadow the one person she needed to forget – lest she die from regret. She resisted opening her eyes and succeeded. For just a little bit longer she could remain oblivious to the identity of the shadow and just comment on how they were blocking her sun. The shadow moved and the sunlight once again filtered behind her eyelids – illuminating the blood vessels. She felt a body lay beside her and the warmth of the sun suddenly seemed frozen in comparison to the heat radiating from the shadow's skin.

She turned her head towards the warmth, preparing herself, heart and soul, to find out the identity of the shadow, all the while secretly knowing who it was already. Her eyes peeked through long lashes and traveled up a deep blue, cloth-covered, sinewy torso. Her eyes reached the face and, just before her mind could register the appearance and before her mouth could mold around the name, a grating sound filled her ears and her mind snapped back to reality. The reality which was more of a dream - a nightmare - than her actual dreams flashed before her eyes. She came face to face with the bloody monarch and almost cringed. It was a mirror of sorts, a mirror which showed the truth of her circumstances.

She tried to place the grating sound which had pulled her from her imagined world but failed as her head would not turn nary a millimeter in either direction. So she stared forward and waited for it to happen again, the _thudthudthudthud_ of her heart and the _drip drip drip_ of her blood harmonizing into a sick symphony. The butterfly was running slightly down the wall, giving it a warped perspective and a certain clouding around the edges.

Then, with a casual grace, a man came into view on her left, dragging a machete along the far wall, through the butterfly - leaving a disturbance in the bloody pattern and severing the design in half. The sound it made was scratching through her eardrums, battering in her brain and almost making her vibrate from the pain of its shrillness.

The man didn't speak, only stared at her as he dragged the curved weapon against the concrete. He reached a table just on the edge of her periphery and placed the weapon down with a _clank_.

"Haruno Sakura, apprentice to the Godaime Hokage herself, master of chakra control, genjutsu type and current captive… of yours truly" the man said, gesturing to himself, with a suave lilt to his voice, which would have been as smooth as crushed velvet had her mind not been full of white noise from the rush of her blood. His words had registered, however, somewhere in the recesses of her brain.

She could do naught but stare forward at the dripping insect, wondering how long it would be before this man killed her. Despite her current position, she maintained her stubborn Konoha pride and resolved to say nothing to betray her country or her Hokage. In that moment, although she was in an excruciating amount of pain, it meant nothing in comparison to the pain of betraying one's country and so she sealed her lips in a grim line and stared forward resolutely – promising her Hokage and friends silently that she would die for them without a second thought. It was her duty. It was her purpose. She had no fear.

Xxx

As it turned out, the only thing worse than death was being left outside in the snow, naked and bleeding profusely. Blue-tinged and chapped lips trembled erratically as green eyes swiveled from side-to-side beneath bloody eyelids. Sakura's naked body was curled in on itself, her hands gripping onto the gaping hole in her abdomen with determination she wasn't sure she felt. She wasn't entirely certain but she could swear that her innards were beginning to stain the pure white snow and there was very little she could do to stop it. Tears streamed down her frost-bitten cheeks, mixing in with the blood pouring from two large gashes beneath her eyes. Her tormentor had begun the process of removing them from their sockets but decided against it at the last moment as he 'preferred it if she could watch him as he defiled her'. And defile her he did. From the tips of her toes to the top of her head, she felt as filthy as he said he would make her.

He hadn't raped her, no, that would be beneath him, but he had made her feel shattered until her mind was screaming at her to forcibly lose consciousness. Her tormentor, however, had other plans and every time she embraced the darkness he would somehow bring her back and start the process all over again. It wasn't the usual type of torture, where punishment followed an unanswered question – her tormentor would cut at her already open wounds in silence, without making a single attempt to ask a question about her village, her leader, the amount of guards at the Konoha gates or why she was sent into his base. He would watch her body shiver from the stress of the punishment with a gleam in his hazel eyes and then he would step back to admire his work, watching as she bled out onto his concrete floors.

"I think you're my greatest work yet – just look at you! This is your metamorphosis into a masterpiece! Feel_ honoured_ to even be in my presence you kunoichi _whore_ – for soon you will no longer be a whore, no! You'll be a butterfly, frozen in a permanent state of perfection!" he had said, and she half expected him to start cackling maniacally but then again, he was no ordinary tormentor- he was the devil incarnate, born from the womb of an anguished childhood, swallowed and spat out by hatred and cruelty. All this had turned him into the man before her; a man with an insane glimmer in his eyes and a twitching hand which lusted for blood.

The woman, who was just shy of nineteen, would have laughed if the man before her didn't petrify the humour right out of her. Never in her somewhat short life, in the two torture sessions she had survived or in the dire situations she had found herself in with S-Rank criminals had she ever been so brutally terrified of an opponent. This was the end, she could feel it right down to the depths of her soul and the most she could do was hope that it would be over soon.

"Oh Sakura, to see you like this, caked in your own blood, the life leaving your eyes so slowly, it just makes my day _that_ much better – wouldn't you agree?" he stared at her, actually waiting for a reply, and upon receiving silence in answer he continued "No, I suppose you wouldn't. I can't imagine you're having too much fun. Well, I'd love to say it'll be over soon – but sadly… it won't. See, to complete your transformation into the sublime creature I want you to be, you have to go outside." He clasped his hands together as if his surprise were the zenith of the purpose of life. Sakura sucked in a ragged breath.

They were in the middle of Snow country, during one of the worst winters ever recorded. Suddenly she hadn't felt so confident in her resolve to remain stoic and unmoving in order to protect her country, but then she had remembered her friends, their faces flashing before her eyes in rapid succession. If only he'd actually asked her some questions for her to refuse to answer – then her resolve would have hardened and she wouldn't have felt like a hapless toy, there for him to quench his thirst for dominance and cruelty.

She had watched as the hazel-eyed man had stepped closer to her, dipped his fingers into the blood gushing from her stomach and returned to the butterfly painting. He had run his fingers along the wall, adding details to the design and closing the incision he had made with his machete upon entering. Once he had finished, he had shaped his hands into several signs and then pressed both palms firmly against the wall, in the center of the monarch. Right before her eyes, the blood had started to move along the wall, twisting itself into new shapes and words until several fragments of sentences appeared on the concrete, some characters dripping slightly from the weight of her blood.

The man had stood before the wall, examining the fragments before clapping his hands together and turning to her with a delighted grin on his face.

"So, Haruno Sakura, it would appear that the Hokage has put together quite a task force to bring this little operation down. I would ask why she sent one little girl before the rest arrived but..." he had turned around, examining the wall once again, "it says right here that you were sent to do recon before relaying your findings to the task force captain, one… Hatake Kakashi. Ah! The famous Copy-Nin, well now, that is a treat!" His face had split into a blinding grin, making his hazel eyes scrunch up at the corners. He had appeared for all the world like a child at Christmas and Kakashi was the largest present in the room.

Sakura had gasped at the wall, tears falling down her cheeks. No amount of resolve could stop one from betraying one's country when one's own body was the enemy's ally. Her mouth had tried to form words but all that had come out was a choked "h-how?"

He hadn't answered her question, even though she had been certain he heard her. Even now, as she lay in the snow, she had no idea how he had pulled the answers from her blood. Part of her knew, however, that it was irrelevant in the grand scheme of things, as she wouldn't be alive long enough for the answer to matter.

Zankokuna Oni (or Hirama Kido) was a cruel man – the man who would forever be known as the murderer of the Godaime Hokage's apprentice. Her shishou would fly into a blind fury when – if – Sakura's body was brought home. They already had a file on the leader of the human trafficking operation, so her mentor would know immediately who had killed her underling – whom she regarded as a daughter of sorts. She would send Kakashi after a week of no correspondence. Assuming her body was still intact and Kido hadn't taken it to do some kind of psychotic experiments.

Kakashi – the name brought a shiver to her spine that had little to do with the hypothermia setting in. The last time she had seen him, they had had a blazing row that hadn't ended too well for either of them. Instead of the usual friendly goodbye they shared when either of them left on a mission of this caliber – one which would have them out of the village for over two weeks – he had yelled at her to forfeit the mission to a shinobi with more experience. His words had hit her like a freight train, knocking the air out of her in a gush before she sucked it in again and let the rage overflow within her. The fight that had ensued was the worst they had ever had, which was saying something, as they often got on each other's nerves. Without a second glance, Sakura had turned on her heel and stormed off towards her apartment to pack for the several months long recon mission to Snow. Her mind was so full of Kakashi and heartbreak. She cared Kakashi as her mission partner, her friend, her comrade and her ex-sensei. To have him ask her to give up a mission because he thought her incapable was damaging to her already fragile self-esteem.

She was almost nineteen years old, in the prime of her life with skills that other kunoichi could only dream of and the apprentice to the Hokage herself. She was the second best medic in Fire Country – and quite possibly in the whole of the Great Shinobi Nations – behind Tsunade herself and she had a mind almost as sharp as Shikamaru's. She was lacking in no facet of the ninja profession and, despite all these accomplishments, the medic still doubted herself regularly. This mission had been her opportunity to prove to herself that she could complete a solo A-rank mission with flying colours and aid the task force that was to succeed her into the base.

She had been confident about this mission – it was her baby. She had worked furiously with the intel department to finalize all the info that they already had on the operation; who was running it, what it entailed as well as the some vague blueprints of the building housing the human traffickers. By the end of four months spent with Shikamaru and his division, they were ready to send in an agent to gather information on the mercenaries, rogue-nin and other assorted members of the organization. The nin sent to do recon would have to blend into the community within the base, but not blend in so much as to be over-looked. They would have to make an impression with the leader, gain his confidence and then weasel some information out of him about his comings and goings as well as gather what kinds of abilities the men under him possessed. Sakura had been chosen, much to her relief and elation, and the Hokage herself had mentioned that because Sakura was not yet in the Bingo Book, she could embed herself into the group with ease. Tsunade had also mentioned that she had the utmost confidence in her abilities.

"Well done on finding these guys, Shikamaru, Sakura," the Godaime had said with a sigh, "let's take these bastards down so they can stop using Fire Country as some kind of hunting ground," the Hokage had then dismissed them with a faint 'good luck' to her apprentice, who was positively beaming with the adrenaline of feeling success getting closer and closer.

Sakura shivered violently, the motion jarring her innards and making her head pound relentlessly into the crushed snow beneath her. She almost wished she had listened to Kakashi, but stubborn pride reminded her that she was a shinobi and death was a given in her line of business. It was no use regretting things that had already passed. She supposed she should have been looking for some way to save herself but even she, with her endless supply of tenacity, knew that it would only leave a bloody trail in the snow for people to find her body, like leaving bread crumbs along a path.

She rolled onto her back, cradling her stomach with her hands, the blood flowing out of her slower now that her heart rate had lowered significantly and the cold was making her blood congeal. She gazed up at the sky, seeing a few puffy white snowflakes fluttering down towards her. It was probably mid-morning if she had to guess and the sun was filtering through just enough to lighten the world beneath it.

She heard the crunching of snow beneath boots and her ears tuned in to the sound, picking up the fast footfalls, lighter than any normal person. It was obviously a shinobi approaching and she wondered if Kido had sent one of his men to fetch her again, if this was some strange version of torture – another punishment born from his sick mind. She had been certain that her torture was over and she was being left out there to die in order to suit Kido's version of 'sublime creation'.

She puffed out a shallow breath and watched it materialize in front of her face. She used to love the cold; the way it made everything clear as day, even down to showing every breath you took. It was comforting to know that even as shinobi, who thrived on keeping their actions hidden, they could not fight something as pure as winter. Now, as she lay there listening to the footfalls approach her location, she decided she would never be grateful for winter and its ability to uncover and purify everything ever again. Right now it was throwing her entire being into stark contrast, exposing her in her naked and tortured state for the entire world to see. It even went so far as to begin washing the dried blood from her skin. She sucked in a breath and heard rather than felt the strange suctioning sound her abdominal wound made at the motion.

Then there was a shadow falling over her form and she gazed up into the eyes of her visitor, who was gazing down at her with a mixture of horror and concern in his eyes. She almost managed a smile for him, but before the motion could complete itself, her eyes rolled back into her head and her body began convulsing violently, shaking her limbs through the snow and leaving bloody patterns in their wake.

Xxx

Hatake Kakashi was a patient man by forced nature; he had become a master in the art of waiting, watching and listening – which was in direct contrast to how he used to be when he was a brash young man who cared very little for others and thought only about protocol and following all the rules to a T. There were very few times in his life after the Fourth's death where he lost his patience and today, sitting in the hospital waiting room, was one of those times. He paced back and forth, an action that was extremely uncharacteristic of the usually indolent nin. His fists clenched and unclenched rhythmically and his usually slouched posture had been replaced by a straight-backed form, which immediately commanded urgency in others.

When a nurse in a pristine white uniform skidded past the waiting room he grabbed her roughly by the upper-arm and stopped her in her tracks. She turned her widened brown eyes up to him fearfully and almost stopped breathing when she realized exactly who had prevented her from continuing into the surgery room down the hall.

"The woman in that operating room, I need you to tell me her condition," he demanded firmly and levelly, barely restraining himself from yelling at the slightly plump woman. She spluttered for a few seconds, not registering his statement until his hand tightened dramatically around her arm and she winced from the pain.

"I-I'm sorry Hatake-san but I don't know enough to inform-" she was cut off by the Copy-nin's growl of anger and harsh words being spat in her face through the thin mask covering his mouth.

"You will go into that room and find me someone who _can_ inform me of her condition and you'll do it _now_", he all but yelled, "Do we understand each other?" He raised his only visible eyebrow at her and waited for her reply. She nodded hastily and tried to pull herself from his grasp. He released her and she went tumbling backwards, almost losing her footing, and ran down the hall before bursting into the operating room with a whimper at the voice that reprimanded her for her entry on the other side.

The distinct sound of the Hokage's voice could be heard replying to the soft requests of the frightened nurse and Kakashi listened intently, hoping to garner some information on his current mission partner and friend.

"…tell that good-for-nothing… can wait just like the rest of the population… and don't you dare come into this room… I don't give a fuck!" Something heavy landed on the floor inside the OR and skidded to a stop against the double doors. The muffled and slightly teary sound of a 'Yes Hokage-sama' could be heard before the shaken woman emerged from the room and headed towards the Copy-nin, who had now placed himself in the hallway outside the room to get a better chance at hearing some news.

"H-Hokage-sama asks politely that you refrain-", she paused and tried to compose herself in the face of one of the most feared men in all the Great Shinobi Nations, "refrain from asking her about the patient until she is ready to receive you and explain the patient's condition herself. If you would so kindly remove yourself from this hallway and return to the waiting room."

"Sakura", the Copy-nin murmured. The nurse had a blank look upon her face and so he continued, "the _patient's_ name is Sakura. Be sure to remember that, she's your superior in every aspect of life – including the fact that she's the Head Medic at this hospital."

"Haruno-sama is…" the woman drew her hand to her mouth, covering her shocked gasp. She had no idea that the bruised and battered body on the table was her superior. Suddenly she felt dizzy. Sakura was a kind but firm Head Medic and all the staff appreciated her, even when she went flying into a rage which could terrify the Hokage herself. She closed her eyes to compose herself and when she opened them again the Copy-nin was gone.

Xxx

"_The recovery time is as yet undetermined… uncertain of the condition of her internal… blood loss was extensive… possibility of brain damage… hypothermia led to complications regarding… won't know until she wakes from the coma… if she wakes…"_

Xxx

"…_got to wake up… don't know what I'll do if… who's going to rag me about my books… come on Sakura… what the fuck am I doing… can't even hear me… going crazy… shouldn't have let you leave…"_

Xxx

"…_morning Sakura-san… some flowers from Ino-san… looking much better today… said he'd come by later… told him not to be so loud around you… know he won't listen anyway… can't stay for long… regular check up with the doctor… baby's doing fine…"_

Xxx

"_Sakura-chan! Sorry I'm late!... And then the baby kicked! Can you believe it!... Ne, Sakura-chan… wake up soon… he's really going out of his mind…we all love you… never forget that… I miss you… wake up now… it's been two months already… fight it… fight for yourself…"_

Xxx

Sakura came back to the world of the conscious with a small gasp and a choke. There was a tube down her throat which inhibited her breathing slightly and her eyes pulsed painfully from the searing light shining through her eyelids. She could hear the steady _beep_ of the machine next to her bed, as well as the slight wheezing sound of a pump depressing and lifting rhythmically. She realized after a few minutes of panic that she was in a hospital and that the beeping sound penetrating her ears was an affirmation that she was, indeed, alive. She tried to push her mind to bring forth her last memory and to her dismay the image of a bloody monarch butterfly came to the forefront of her thoughts and then the face of 'Zankokuna Oni', the Cruel Demon, came to her and she wished dearly that the throbbing in her head meant that amnesia was coming. But no, the images stayed clear as day in her mind and no amount of wishing would make them leave. His slightly greasy hair and piercing hazel eyes embedded themselves into her memories until it was all she could think about. She mentally shook herself and attempted to focus on something else.

She turned her attention to her body and did a mental checklist of herself to ascertain the extent of the damage. She couldn't quite mold chakra due to exhaustion and slight muscular atrophy but she could force herself to become hyper-aware of her body. Her examination began at the top of her head; she could feel the migraine pushing behind her eyes, but other than that there didn't seem to be any fissures or staples to indicate brain trauma. Next she concentrated on her face and felt the tell-tale stiffness along her lips and cheeks which indicated that her facial muscles had been immobile for some time. Her throat felt raw but in working order and her chest was tight but her breathing didn't feel laboured. Shock filled her brain as she focused on her abdomen and remembered the huge, gaping hole that had been present the last time she was conscious. She could tell something was different but her fuzzy senses and mind couldn't pick up what that difference was. She moved on, knowing that before the day was up (whatever time it was, anyway), she would know what had happened to her internal organs. She moved on to her legs and noted with relief that they were still intact and seemed to be fully functional. She tried wiggling her toes and was satisfied that the blanket over chest shifted slightly with the motion. Next she moved her fingers and sighed mentally when they moved. A shinobi without hands was practically useless after all and a shinobi without legs was dead to the profession.

Tentatively she opened her eyes, almost hissing at the harsh light which penetrated them. She blinked a few times to clear the blurriness which prevented her from making out details. After several attempts her eyesight cleared and she focused on the bevels in the ceiling panels. The sight was so familiar to her, being a medic, that she almost cried out in relief – it meant that she was definitely not at the compound in Snow anymore. She wasn't sure exactly where she was but knowing that she was far away from Kido did wonders for her spirit – which had dulled significantly since her torture sessions began. The kunoichi shifted her head to the left and saw a chair pulled up to her bedside. The seat area had a slight indentation in it, so she guessed someone had been there recently. She tried to sit up but found her body too weak to even push her upper body vertical. She half-sighed half-choked around the intubation tube and lay back down, staring at the ceiling, waiting for someone to enter her room and realize she was awake. How long had she been out?

Xxx

Hinata made her way towards Sakura's room with a vase of fresh flowers she'd brought from the Yamanaka flower shop. The days had started to get colder in Konoha and the wind was howling with a vengeance through the streets, throwing dust up into the villager's faces and pasting people's cloaks to the curves of their bodies. The Hyuuga heiress waddled slightly under the weight of her pregnant belly. She smiled fondly as she felt a sensation similar to butterflies make its way through her – a sign that the baby was moving around in its warm sanctuary.

The opal-eyed kunoichi entered the hospital room quietly and moved immediately towards the side-table, placing the vase down almost-silently before adjusting the flowers. She turned to see Sakura's eyes wide open and tracking her motions, her tongue curling uselessly around the tube.

"Sakura! You're awake!" She gasped and lunged forward with some difficulty to grab the pink-haired woman's hand and squeeze it. She smiled brightly, tears forming in her large eyes as she stared down at the pale woman, "I'm going to get a nurse! I'll be right back!" With that, she hustled out of the room heavily and all but flew down the hall to the nurses' station.

Xxx

Kakashi entered the hospital in a flurry of leaves and dust, bypassing the front desk and running full tilt down the halls and up the stairs until he reached the fourth floor. Once there he located Sakura's room and burst through the door, panting slightly and gazing around with wild eyes. He took in the faces of all the occupants of the room before his eyes rested on the small woman sitting up in the bed, looking at him with watery - albeit guarded - eyes.

His hitae-ate was missing, revealing both his natural and borrowed eyes. His hair seemed more disheveled than usual and his uniform was skew, as if he'd dressed in a hurry. Tsunade cleared her throat and Hinata and an elderly nurse, who was busy writing notes in a chart from the values depicted on the monitor next to the bed, looked at her.

"I think we'll give you two a minute," she said and then clapped her hands to indicate that her subordinate and the Hyuuga should follow her lead and leave the room. Sakura's eyes widened, as if she wanted them all to stay and protect her from Kakashi's presence.

The three women exited quietly and Sakura and the Copy-nin were left alone, swimming through the waves of awkwardness that had crashed over them. She stared down at her hands clasped together over her thighs while Kakashi stared at her, his heart beating wildly in his chest – although it felt like the muscle was in his throat.

"Hi" she said quietly to her hands, her voice coming out as a croak.

"Hi," he replied, shifting his weight awkwardly from foot to foot. She didn't say anything after that so he soldiered on to fill the silence, "how are you feeling?"

"Fine… a little stiff but that's to be expected…" she said, as if she were speaking to a complete stranger and not her mission partner of two years.

"Yeah, you were in the coma for just over two months so you probably feel like shit," he said conversationally, avoiding the elephant in the room. There were so many things to be said – he wanted to mention that he'd been a wreck since she'd left five months ago for Snow, that his gut had told him the mission was going to end badly, that he was sorry he didn't try harder to stop her, that he missed her terribly, that he'd never been so scared in his life – but he kept those things sealed behind his lips.

"So much has changed since I left… Hinata's six months pregnant, for one" she said weakly, looking like a lost child, so small beneath the pristine white blanket.

"Sakura… I-" he began, but she cut him off with a raised hand.

"Please don't Kakashi. I honestly don't want to hear your apologies or anything like that. I'm an adult, I knew what I was getting into," she took a breath, the strain of speaking after so long presenting itself, "I also knew the risks before I left. It was my mission and I'd done all the research I could before leaving. I was hit with a curve ball and I didn't dodge it – that's just how it is."

"But-"

"No. Just listen. I was more than ready to die when I was lying there in the snow – I'd accepted it and I didn't regret anything… things happened which I couldn't prevent even if I had tried. I followed all the rules of being a shinobi but it just wasn't enough," she sucked in a breath, tears pushing behind her eyes. She reached a shaky hand for the cup of water on her side table, but Kakashi was there before she could lift it, handing it to her with a trembling hand.

"Thank you," she mumbled before taking a small sip and then cradling the cup between her hands on her lap, "I just need you to understand that you can't protect me from everything in life. I got a raw deal and it was the worst fucking experience of my life, but I also learned a lot and now I know – solo missions aren't for me; I work better with a partner or a team." She looked up at him properly then, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. Her resolve was fading fast but she had decided the minute Tsunade had run through her injuries that when she saw her mission partner she would keep the facade up to maintain her dignity.

"Sakura… I was-" his voice broke for a fraction of a second before he caught himself and started again, "I was so scared." He brought his hand up to cover his eyes, trying to completely shield himself from her penetrating emerald eyes. He felt a small, lightly calloused hand wrap around his forearm and weakly pull his hand from his face. She pulled him down until he was sitting on the edge of the bed with her hand still securely on his arm. He still refused to look at her so she grabbed his chin and tilted his head towards her, forcing him to look at her and see the stubbornness and vulnerability mixing within her eyes. She dropped her hand back to her lap, fidgeting with the edge of the cup while staring him down.

"You don't get to be scared – you get to be relieved and you get to be proud of me, but you are not allowed to tell me that you were scared. If you do that then… then all we'll be is two mission partners who are both scared out of their minds. You're the pillar of strength, you're the constant – don't you dare change just because your stupid student decided to do something ridiculous," she said heatedly, but not unkindly.

"Ex-student," he said with a small smile beneath his mask, "and I am proud and relieved and a whole lot of other emotions too – but I thought you had died when we found you lying there in the snow, then you looked up at me and… I almost passed out as all the panic I had been living through raced out of my body," he shivered and suppressed a sob as it spread through his chest, "and then you started convulsing and… and that wound in your stomach… I've never run so fast in my life… you were… and I just… what if I hadn't made it in time?" He pinched the bridge of his nose as he pushed the tears backwards. No matter the circumstance, Hatake Kakashi did _not_ cry. He looked up to see Sakura smiling at him with a look of pure sympathy on her face. It confused him until he realized that a tear had escaped his natural eye and rolled down his cheek.

She reached up, the IV still attached to her hand, and brushed the tear away with her thumb. She cupped his cheek as she completed the action and then brought her hand back down to cradle the cup of water – her anchor – again.

"I will be forever indebted to you Hatake Kakashi," she whispered hoarsely.

He looked deeply into her eyes and saw the fear written there. His face crumbled and he leaned forward softly, laying his forehead on her shoulder as more tears made their way down his face to soak into his mask. He didn't make a sound, only rested there as she brought her hand up to nestle her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck.

She smiled weakly, turning her head to gaze out the window at the clear blue sky and the orange and yellow leaves which floated past her window when a particularly harsh gust of wind lifted them from the trees below.

Xxx

Sakura woke up in her small bedroom to the sound of rain pattering against her window pane. She opened her blurry eyes and stared out at the murky sky stretching out over Konoha. Her legs were tangled in the white bed spread and she twisted herself around to free them from its confines. The pinkette sighed and lifted herself up, stretching her arms above her head and groaning at the delicious feeling of her muscles and bones popping. Her feet touched the hardwood floors and she padded silently towards her bathroom. She stripped and immediately entered the shower, preparing herself for her shift at the hospital and then training.

She exited the bathroom, steam flowing out across the floor and into her bedroom. The rain continued to beat against the window and she sighed at the thought of training while sopping wet. She shook her head and walked towards her mirror, dropping her towel on the floor in the process. She stood in front of her floor-length mirror and stared critically at her body. It had been over six months but the scar in the center of her abdomen was still extremely apparent and occasionally painful. The long, narrow shape was pink and shiny in comparison to the smooth, pale and toned skin on the rest of her stomach and several smaller scars spread out from its center, giving it the ironic and sickly appropriate appearance of a skeletal butterfly. She ran her fingers over the scar lightly, feeling the bumps and grooves. Her skin broke out in goosebumps from the action and her whole body seemed to come to life, her eyes beginning to glisten from some ill-hidden emotion. She laughed silently to herself and pushed her hand flat against the scar, shaking her head and blinking the half-formed tears away.

Turning from the mirror, she dressed quickly and rushed from her apartment toward the hospital – forgetting to grab an umbrella to shield herself from the rain.

A/N:

Ok, so I haven't updated anything in a while (due to some unforeseen circumstances and "writer's block") but I started this in March and wrote a bit here and there since then. It's just a concept for now and I'm not sure where I'm going with it, but I had to get it out. It's not beta-ed or anything, so any errors are purely my own.

I'll come up with a better summary at some point /cough.

I haven't forgotten about _Judge Not_, I just need to sort out where I want it to go and to gather my thoughts to write it, because it's so dark.

So yes, if anyone feels like letting me know if this could turn into anything, I would be very appreciative.

Peace,

Snow.


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